The Mystery of the Elusive Witness
by Book 'em Again
Summary: When a murder occurs in the botanical gardens, Five-O finds itself with plenty of suspects but little evidence. It soon becomes clear that an unidentified witness may be their only hope for solving this case. But finding the witness is turning out to be more difficult than it should be. Written for the Five-O Summer of Mystery Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: The Scream**

Hua smiled as she looked up at her husband, Fai Chu. She could hardly believe that she was married and in Hawaii for her honeymoon. Things were perfect as the two lovers walked along a winding path past bright and beautiful flowers that filled the air with a sweet scent. Hua was so happy that, when they asked the man at the hotel desk about getting out of the city and away from the crowds, he had suggested coming to Waimea Valley. The trails and the waterfalls were lovely and a walk through the botanical gardens was a wonderful way to start their day.

Hua stopped and bent down when a vibrant purple flower caught her eye. "I wonder what this is."

"I don't know," Fai said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "But it is beautiful."

The gentle and caring touch of her husband made Hua want to kiss him. But as she rose up on her tiptoes, she heard a loud rustling from a nearby bush. Concerned, she jerked her head toward the sound. "What was that?"

Fai shrugged. "Probably just a gardener. A place like this must have dozens to keep everything looking so nice."

Hua knew that her husband was most likely right, but that didn't stop the feeling of unease from filling her with dread. Something wasn't right. Suddenly, a loud high-pitched scream filled the air. Her husband bolted, running as fast as he could down the path. She followed only a few steps behind.

As she turned the corner, Hua bumped into the frozen form of her husband, who was staring in shock at the scene before him. An easel had been knocked to the ground, paint was splattered everywhere and, in the middle of it all, was the body of a young man who was unmistakably dead.

* * *

Steve McGarrett stepped carefully around the body to avoid the fallen paint. The scene was disturbing. A young man had been strangled with a garrote that the killer had left at the scene. Scattered around him were an overturned easel, the ruined painting, and a broken paintbrush sticking out from under the victim's body. It was an explosion of chaos and color in the midst of the picturesque environment that surrounded them. It was not hard to see why the young man had picked this location to work on his art.

Knowing that Doc Bergman would have his head if he touched the body before he arrived, Steve stepped back and tried to imagine the scene in his mind.

He could tell from the angles of the easel, body and stool where the victim had been working when he died. He had faced his painting, probably still seated - Doc would be able to clarify that last point. So he had been focused on his work. That meant that either the killer had sneaked up behind him or he had known his killer.

 _No, this man is a professional artist. He's not going to allow anyone to come this close to his work without knowing that he can trust him or her._

The victim knew his killer. Steve was certain of that. He dabbled in painting himself and he knew all too well the feeling of unease that occurred whenever a stranger tried to approach him when he was painting. You were hyper aware of your surroundings for a threat to your art. For a professional, that feeling of unease would be magnified. He highly doubted that someone could have sneaked up on this man. and that the artist wouldn't have turned around if he hadn't trusted his killer.

Satisfied with his initial findings from the scene, Steve walked over to where the young couple who had discovered the body were waiting. Hopefully, he would continue to discover useful information."I'm Steve McGarrett; I was told you found the body."

"Yes," the man said. "I'm Fai Chu and this is my wife, Hua. We were walking along that path when my wife thought she heard someone moving in the bushes. Then we both heard a woman scream. I just ran down the path. I thought she was in trouble. I never thought I'd find..." Mr. Chu shuddered as he glanced over at the body.

"And you are certain that it was a woman screaming?"

"Yes," Mrs. Chu said. "The voice was very high pitched."

"And where did you hear someone in the bush?"

"Over there," she replied, pointing her finger, "behind those purple flowers."

"Thank you, ma'am." Then gesturing for Ben Kokua to join him, Steve stepped off the path and walked carefully around the flowers in the direction the Chus had indicated.

"What is it, Steve?" Ben asked.

"Mrs. Chu believes someone was near here around the time of the murder."

Ben knelt down. "Looks like she's right. The ground ahead is disturbed."

Steve nodded in agreement. "That bush is only partially pruned." Moving deliberately in order to preserve the scene, the detective stood behind the bush. "Whoever was working here had a sight line of the space where our victim was painting."

"So we have a witness or a murderer," Ben mused.

"If the time of death matches the time of the scream, yes. Find Chin and interview all of the gardeners and other employees. I want to know everyone's movements from the time the park opened this morning. No one leaves until they've spoken with us."

"Right, Steve."

When Steve stepped back onto the path, Danny Williams was waiting. The younger detective flipped open his notebook. "I just spoke with the Gardens' manager, Mr. Evergreen. Our victim is Gabriel Larson. He was their artist-in-residence for the summer. He beat out several other well regarded, up and coming local artists for the privilege."

"Any other information on Larson?"

"His parents own an upscale hotel in Waikiki. This has been a source of contention with some of the other artists who have argued that the residence position should have gone to someone who needed it more."

Steve mused over that information. It was difficult to make a living as a professional artist and the competition between artists could get intense. It was not surprising that Larson had made enemies, though the question remained whether or not it was sufficient motive for murder.

"Good work, Danno. Find out all you can about the Larson family. I want to visit his parents as soon as we finish up here."

Danny nodded and hurried off.

Noticing that Doc had arrived, Steve turned his attention back to body. The coroner would discover what clues he had missed. Any detail could end up being the clue that broke the case wide open. For solving a murder was not unlike painting a work of art. You had to have all the little details right and in their proper places before you could see the whole picture. And the more details they found, the easier seeing the picture of truth would be.

* * *

Ben forced himself to smile as he listened to the woman in front of him prattle on. She was eager to help his investigation - too eager - as the overload of information was threatening to be too much for the tired detective.

"I work with the 'alae 'ula or Hawaiian moorhen. I come in and feed them and clean their area. They are beautiful birds and endangered. Can you believe that people would want to destroy these precious creatures? Our work here at the Gardens is essential for their long term survival."

"Where are the birds kept?" Ben asked quickly when the woman took a breath.

"Here," she said as she pointed on the map, "near the park entrance."

That was nowhere near the Hawaiian flora exhibit, which meant that this woman was not the person he was looking for. Besides, if she had seen anything useful, he doubted that she would be able to hide the truth from anyone for long.

"Thank you, Miss. You have been very helpful; we will contact you if we have any more questions." Then he hurried away before she could share more information on her beloved birds.

The next two gardeners on his list, one haole and one Hawaiian, were seated together on a bench. Ben frowned; he'd prefer to talk with them separately but, as he watched the men converse in sign language, it appeared that might not be possible. He didn't know how to sign, so this interview promised to be interesting.

"Excuse me. I'm Ben Kokua from Hawaii Five-O. I need to ask you a few questions."

Luckily, the haole man looked up, signing as he said, "I'm Benjamin Flick and this is my friend, Mark Iona."

"Is Mark deaf?"

"Ask him yourself. I'll interpret."

Realizing that he had probably just made a social faux pas, Ben addressed the man he now clearly believed was deaf. "Mark, I'm Detective Kokua. I need to ask you a few questions. Are you deaf?"

 _"Yes, I can't hear."_

Pulling out the map again, Ben forced himself to keep his eyes on the deaf young man. It was hard to not look at his friend who spoke when Mark signed. "Where were you working this morning?"

 _"The Hawaiian flora garden. I was pruning the_ _pukiawe bushes."_

Finally, someone who had been in the right area. "Can you show me where exactly?"

The man pointed on the map Ben was holding and the detective made a mark. It was close to where the murder occurred, but still a small distance away. "Did you see Larson or anyone else in the area?"

 _"I saw Larson walk down the path with his easel, but no, I did not see anyone else until everyone was saying that he had been murdered."_

"Thank you. Benjamin, where were you this morning?"

Benjamin pointed to an area several yards north of where his friend had been working. "There. I was weeding in the hibiscus garden."

Further away than his friend, but still close enough that he might have noticed something. "Did you hear or see anything?" Ben asked.

"I heard a woman scream. I ran towards the sound, and found a couple standing in shock over the body."

"Do you know who screamed?"

"I assumed it was the woman who discovered the body."

"Are there any women who work near you?"

Both men shook their heads 'no'.

Ben handed each of the men his card. "If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to contact us."

As he walked away, Ben couldn't help but feel frustrated. After a morning of interviews, he had finally found someone who had been in the area of the murder. But because the man was deaf, he hadn't heard a thing. It was discouraging to get so close and then fall short of gaining the information he needed. Though as he prepared his report in his head, Ben couldn't help but wonder if the killer had known that Iona was deaf and had intentionally made his or her move when Iona was in the area. If so, this meant that they weren't dealing with a sudden crime of passion, but a well thought out and premeditated murder.

Solving crimes was never easy, but it appeared that circumstances were going to make solving this case harder than he originally thought.

That was, unless they found the woman who had screamed. After all, how hard could it be?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Price of Art**

By all appearances, the hotel was the very definition of opulence. From the smartly dressed doorman who opened glass doors with gilded gold handles to marble floors, every inch of the Diamond Resort screamed wealth and luxury. No wonder Larson's rival artists had complained. The young man clearly had means. Police work had taken Steve into the upper echelons of high society before, but the extravagance of the very rich never ceased to amaze him.

"I wonder what one night's stay costs here," Danny whispered.

"More than we make in one day, I'm sure," Steve said.

"Combined."

Wanting to avoid the main desk, Steve noticed a hallway off to the left that looked like it led to the administrative offices and gestured that they should head in that direction. Soon they spotted a series of offices with a secretary seated by the entrance. Approaching the man, Steve said, "I need to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Larson. It's an emergency."

The man smiled, but his eyes held an unmistakable gleam that said 'go away'. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Larson is in an important meeting. Perhaps you would like to make an appointment."

"McGarrett, Five-O." Steve flashed his badge. "This concerns his son."

The fake smile disappeared. "Do you have a warrant?"

 _A warrant!_ Steve exchanged a quick look with Danny. Something was going on here. He would have to check with HPD and see if the Larson family was under investigation. "I don't need a warrant. I have news concerning his son."

"Philip Larson is here so how could there be an emergency?"

Steve forced himself to remain calm. The man was doing his job as gatekeeper; he doubted that the secretary had any idea about the news they brought. "This concerns Gabriel. Now inform the Larsons that I am here or I will inform them myself."

After staring at the detectives for a few tense moments, the man acquiesced and led them to a board room where a meeting was taking place.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Larson, but these detectives insisted on seeing you and your wife. They say it is an emergency."

The oldest man in the room gestured and most of the men left, leaving the couple seated with only one young man, standing behind them. From his features, Steve figured that this was Philip as he looked remarkably like his brother.

"If I am under investigation, I refuse to speak without my lawyer present."

"I assure you that will not be necessary. My name is McGarrett and this is Mr. Williams. I have news concerning you son, Gabriel."

A hint of panic crept into the woman's voice as she asked, "Is something wrong?"

"I regret to inform you that your son was murdered early this morning."

The reactions of the three Larsons couldn't have been more different. The mother gasped and trembled in her seat as she fought to hold back tears. The father froze in shock as if he couldn't believe the words he had just heard. Meanwhile, Philip stormed toward them, his fists clenched in anger.

Danny moved quickly to grab the young man by the shoulders and hold him back . The distraut brother screamed, "You're lying! My brother can't be dead! He can't be."

Steve looked the young man in the eyes and said, "I'm sorry. Your brother was strangled to death. I saw his body."

"Oh, God!" Philip sunk into a chair, sobbing. "Why? Who?"

This was always the hardest part of his job. Steve knew many families wanted privacy to process their grief, but privacy would have to wait as he needed answers that only the family could give. "We don't know who did this. But if you're willing to answer a few questions, it could help."

"Of course," the elder Larson said, his voice hoarse and subdued as he wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Anything we can do to help."

"Who knew that your son would be at the botanical gardens this morning?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Mr. Larson answered, "We all knew. Gabriel was proud of the residency. He told anyone - all his friends - that he would be working there this summer."

"My brother was very good. People paid decent money for his paintings. Anyone connected to the artist community would have known."

Danny drew out his notebook. "Did Gabriel have any enemies? An ex-girlfriend? Anyone he had arguments with recently?"

Philip shook his head. "No girlfriends. I joked that he was married to his art. Some of the artists were upset that he got the residency, but no one that would kill over it."

"What about enemies connected to your business?"

"Gabriel didn't have anything to do with the business," Mrs. Larson said quickly, too quickly. "Everyone knows that Philip will inherit. He has the gifts for it. Gabriel didn't."

"You and your employees were convinced that we were here to investigate you. Why?" Steve pressed. There was something here. He was sure of it.

The father sighed. "I have enemies. My rival has made insinuations - false, of course - that we are involved in some illegal dealings. But Miller threatened to go the cops, not go after my family."

Steve nodded. That could explain the odd reception upon their arrival and it would be easy enough to check. Then handing over his business card, he said, "Thank you for your help. If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to contact us."

"Find him, Mr. McGarrett. Find the man who killed my son."

Steve was mulling over the conversation as the detectives walked through the hotel on their way out, when Danny suddenly stopped and grabbed his arm. "Steve, look on the other side of that plant."

Moving towards the wall, Steve noticed that there was water damage hidden behind the pot. The wall was dry, but stained. The damage was not recent. One would think that a place as upscale as this would fix such an issue right away. But they hadn't and now that Steve was looking, he could spot other signs of disrepair hidden in the midst of the opulence. "Danno, there's something strange going on here."

It was now up to them to find out what.

* * *

As Chin walked into Gabriel Larson's studio, the first thing he noticed was the smell of paint followed by the feeling that he standing in a sacred place. The quietness of the studio, the natural light coming through the windows made him want to stop, sit and soak in the peacefulness of the room.

Ben walked slowly past the artwork, his eyes taking in every detail. "For a man whose family riches came from buildings, it's interesting that many of these paintings are of nature.

"Or of regular people," Chin agreed as he studied a painting of a fisherman hauling his catch into a battered old boat. The man didn't look well off, but Larson had captured the spirit of the man's pride in his work.

Looking up from a painting of a young Hawaiian lying in the sand next to a sea turtle, Ben said, "He's painting beauty. Beauty as _he_ sees it, not as the world does."

"Or his parents." Chin had not failed to notice the expensive items that filled the Larson residence when the butler had escorted them to the studio.

"There must be several dozen paintings in here."

Discovering several portfolios bursting with sketches, Chin carefully flipped through one. "Hundreds, if you count the drawings. I wonder how much all this is worth?"

"Or who gets the money now that he is dead," Ben stated bluntly.

Ben had a habit of getting straight to the heart of the matter. It was a large part of what made him a good detective. And Chin had to agree with his friend. Larson had been a new face on the Hawaiian art scene; he hadn't had much of a chance to sell his work. But now that he was dead, the work in this room would be the only original Gabriel Larson pieces that anyone would ever be able to own. The prices would shoot up dramatically. If Larson's family hadn't been so rich, he would have suspected them. However, one thing was clear; Gabriel's murderer had deprived the world a very special talent.

* * *

Mark Iona shuddered as he paused near the spot were Gabriel Larson had been murdered. It looked normal, too normal. It was as if the violent crime could simply be washed away. The paint, the blood and the body were gone. For the dozens of visitors who passed this spot every day, not one would be able to guess what had occurred there yesterday morning.

But he knew what had happened. He didn't even have to close his eyes to see the body there. To remember. And now he was supposed to return to work as if nothing had happened. There were bushes to prune, weeds to pull, grass to cut. An illusion of paradise to maintain.

His fellow workers walked the gardens in pairs and small groups. There was an element of fear present and they turned to each other for support, for safety. But he walked these paths alone. And even though he was a man who was used to living as an outsider in a hearing world, never had the gulf between him and the rest of humanity felt so wide.

It was a trial to talk with his coworkers, as only a few had bothered to learn a few basic signs and writing everything out was a lot of work. Benjamin was the exception, but his friend was a SODA (sibling of a deaf adult)and had starting signing before he spoke his first words. But even if Benjamin were here, what would Mark say? That was the root of his problem.

He had told the detective that he knew nothing and had seen nothing. But the truth was that he had lied. Lied because he wasn't sure he could trust that a bunch of hearing cops would even bother with the story of a deaf man. Afraid that they would blame him, leaving him with no way tell to his story to people who had no way of understanding his words.

But as Mark fingered the business card the detective had given him, he wondered if he had made the wrong decision. He could visit the Five-O office. He could tell them the truth. He could tell them that he had seen. Seen _her._ The one the cops were looking for.

But as Mark looked down at the spot where Gabriel died, he knew that he couldn't risk it. He was too scared. Besides, the cops were smart. They would figure it out on their own. If he trusted in something, it would have to be that.


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm back! Sorry for the wait, but I took a trip to South America and like James MacArthur my muse decided that it wasn't coming back until it wanted to. Also, by the end of this chapter, all of the potential suspects and witnesses have been introduced if anyone wants to make some guesses before the big reveal._

* * *

 **Chapter Three: In Search of Clearer Picture**

If things weren't so serious, they would almost be amusing. For it never ceased to amaze Steve how often men in expensive suits who sat behind big desks in even bigger offices thought that he could be intimidated by their display of wealth and power. Winston Miller was one of those men.

"Mr. McGarrett, if you are insinuating that I would have anything to do with Larson's murder, you are gravely mistaken."

Placing his palms down on the desk, Steve leaned toward Miller, deliberately moving into his sphere of power. "You have threatened the Larsons before."

"I do not and have never threatened anyone. I make promises. And what I promised the elder Larson was that if he did not cease his illegal dealings, I would report them to the police."

"That sounds like a threat from where I'm standing, Mr. Miller."

Miller grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Not if my words are true."

"Very well. I'm listening. Convince me."

"Look at the wife, McGarrett. He runs his dirty money through her. Keeping his hands nice and clean. Get a warrant and you'll see that I'm right."

Steve knew a dismissal when he heard one. And since he was here with Miller's permission, he decided not to press his luck. But there was no way that he was going to let this man have the last word. So when Steve reached the door, he turned back and said, "And I promise you that if you are wrong, I will be back."

* * *

"How can I help you, Mr. Kokua?"

Back on the premises of the botanical gardens, Ben stood before the manager and said, "I understand that you have already found a replacement for Mr. Larson."

"Yes," Mr. Evergreen replied. "While Larson's death is tragic, the project he was working on must be finished."

"What project is that?"

"An educational exhibit. We are planning to create an exhibit of paintings along with photographs and information provided by our botanists to teach people about some of Hawaii's most beautiful treasures. Our exhibit will be housed in our Visitor's Center. We gave Mr. Larson funds and a space to work, along with the freedom to pursue his own projects for an hour each day."

Ben nodded. Deadlines meant that the botanical gardens would have needed to move swiftly. "Is your new artist in the studio?" For even if this person didn't know Larson, there was a chance that he would know the people in the art world who did.

Evergreen gestured. "Follow me."

Ben held out a hand. "I know the way." Then he walked through the building until he found the spare room that had been turned into a makeshift studio. They had searched the room carefully the day Larson died so it would be interesting to see what had changed. But even though he expected things to be different, he hadn't expected to open the door and see _her_ there.

For several moments, Ben's breath was caught in his throat as he watched a short Samoan woman standing before an easel. It had been years, but she looked just like he remembered. "Beth" he finally gasped.

The artist turned. Her face was expressionless as she glared at him. "Lanuola. Lanuola Tui now that the law has changed. But you would have known that if you hadn't gone haole on us, _Ben_."

Ben grimaced; her tongue hadn't changed either. "I didn't then and I still don't see joining the police department as a betrayal of our people."

Beth, no Lanuola, set down her supplies and crossed her arms. "It was never about your job or your fancy education. It's always been about more than that. For as long as I've known you, Ben Kokua, you've been lying to yourself. About who you are. You have a Hawaiian last name. A Samoan mother. You grew up the son of a poor fisherman just like the rest of us. But the way you talk, the way you dress, the way you walk, it tells me one thing. Inside, you want to be one of _them_."

Ben gritted his teeth. As much as he wanted to argue back, he know that there was no point in rehashing this fight. No one ever won. It had been twelve years since they had last seen each other and it had taken them less than a minute to reopen old wounds.

In a desperate attempt to change the subject, he said the first words that came to mind. "I heard you traveled to Samoa."

Lanuola took two steps forward, causing the bottom of her skirt to shift. For a few seconds he glimpsed the intricate ink of a malu - the traditional tattoo for women in Samoa. "I gave you a chance to come with me."

"But instead I joined HPD." The night he informed her of his decision was the last time they had spoken.

"Yes, you did. And now you've been promoted - to Five-O. Has it been everything you hoped it would be?"

Ben heard the challenge in her voice and shot back, "Was Samoa?"

"I found our culture. Our art. I found life and beauty. I found people who saw more than just a fisherman's daughter. They saw me as a person. As someone with worth. Have you found that in Five-O?"

"I have."

Lanuola looked almost disappointed at his pronouncement. How had this happened? They were so close growing up, the best of friends and childhood sweethearts. He had assumed that one day they would marry. But he went to college and she grew more and more interested in studying Samoan culture. She began to speak of nothing but traveling back to the old country, learning their real history, throwing off the trappings of their oppressors. He had seen little point in focusing on the past when they had the future to think of. A modern world full of technology and opportunity and progress.

In the end, they both succeeded in escaping the poverty of the docks. They just had taken very different paths. But he hadn't come here to catch up with an old flame; he had a murder to solve.

"I need to ask you some questions about Gabriel Larson,"

She shrugged. "What's there to ask? He was a rich spoiled haole. Was handed the world on a silver platter. So of course he was chosen. The rest of us have to get down on our hands and knees to find sponsors and get exposure and they give this golden opportunity to one local artist who didn't need it. None of this would have happened if they had picked someone more deserving to begin with."

Ben didn't like the direction his thoughts were going, but he was a detective and he had to ask. "So you believe that Gabriel didn't deserve the artist-in-residence position?"

"That's what I said. And I'm not the only one who thinks so."

"Ms. Tui, where were you Wednesday morning?"

"What are you getting at?"

"The man was murdered! What you're talking about sounds like motive to me."

"A true cop and a true haole at heart! Some things never change. Are you going to arrest me?"

"No!" Ben stopped as he realized he was yelling; he needed to be calm. "I need you to tell me your whereabouts during the time of murder. I will find out whether you tell me or not."

With a sigh, Lanuola finally backed down. "I was at a friend's house. You want his number?"

"Please."

Ben keep his mouth shut while she wrote down the name and number of the man he suspected was her boyfriend, or the man she wanted him to think was her boyfriend. This interview couldn't have gone any worse. How could Beth still hold so much anger over events that had happened years ago? Her anger made little sense to him, but then Ben had never really understood her anger or her hate. Or was the hate just a cover for the pain? Perhaps if he knew, they would still be together.

When Ben exited the building, he turned towards the gardens and strolled slowly down the garden path. He needed to clear his head before returning to work. Yet, even as he mulled over his own pain, he couldn't turn off the detective portion of his brain. He made note of every employee he passed, most of whom he recognized from his interviews. He waved at the deaf gardener and took the longer path to steer clear of the overly enthusiastic moorhen keeper. Unfortunately, no previously overlooked female employee magically appeared with a blinking sign that said 'It's me; I was the one who screamed'. Like relationships, police work was rarely that easy.

With a sigh, Ben headed toward the exit, unable to shake the feeling that he was missing something important.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: The Sound of a Breakthrough**

Chin lit his pipe as he looked over his notes from his day's work. Smoke rose as he traced his finger down the list of names. All the alibis had checked out, but that was no surprise. They were all soft - friends, family members or employees of their suspects - he had hoped that by talking to the people in person, he would catch someone in a lie, but no break there. If any of these people were lying, he would have to confront them with evidence before they would change their story.

"Chin, you free?" a voice called out.

The detective poked his head outside and spotted Danny looking at him. "I may have something," the younger man said.

Finally! They needed a break. Grabbing his notebook and pipe, Chin walked over to his friend's cubicle. Immediately, he noticed that Danny's desk was uncharacteristically messy as it was covered with papers and spreadsheets, and one overturned empty coffee mug.

Handing over a piece of paper, Danny said, "Miller was right. I found a hidden bank account under the wife's name - her maiden name."

Chin chewed his pipe as he studied the page. "That's a lot of cash going in and out."

"Until it doesn't."

Chin's eyes traveled down the page until he noticed that around a month ago, the deposits of cash ceased. The withdrawals continued until about two weeks ago when the funds dipped to dangerously low numbers. "Until it doesn't," he repeated. "This matches what you and Steve saw at the hotel. The Larsons were having financial problems." Then pointing to the list of checks written, he asked, "Are all these companies all in construction, remodeling?"

"Yes, they are working to fix some of what Steve and I noticed at the resort, which makes sense. But it doesn't explain why the account was hidden."

Chin studied the account as he pondered the problem. The expenses made sense, but the deposits were all made in cash which further suggested that this was a secret account. Then getting an idea, he grabbed the phone and made a call to one of the companies on the list. Danny looked at him thoughtfully as he talked, but waited until he had hung up to speak. "What've you got, Chin?'

"Appearances. This is all about keeping up appearances. The Larsons are having problems and they don't want anyone to know it. The man I just spoke to told me about the job he was hired for. There are some necessary repairs that need to be made to the resort, but he was just hired to do some cosmetic touch ups."

"They want to look like everything is under control when in reality it's falling apart," Danny said with a grin. "Good work."

Chin pushed some papers to the side and sat down on Danny's desk, enjoying his pipe. "We have motive. But we need something to tie the family to the scene of the crime. Has Che gotten anywhere with the murder weapon?"

"He's identified it as a piano wire, but he's still trying to track down the brand."

Pretty sure he had spotted a grand piano at the Larsons', Chin was debating whether or not he could come up with a way to get a closer look at it without a warrant when Ben returned from his day's excursions.

"I may have something," Ben said as he grabbed a chair and joined the gathering in Danny's office. Quickly, he summed up his conversation with the Lanuola Tui. "After I left Ms. Tui, I interviewed a couple other local artists. Gabriel was well liked by many, but there was a vocal group who believed he was using his parents and his money to get all the good jobs. One artist admitted that a group of artists, including Tui, sent threatening notes to try and get him to leave the business."

"Do you know if Ms. Tui plays piano?" Danny asked.

"Yes, she does. Why?"

Danny explained Che's discovery, while Chin wondered how Ben would know something so personal. But come to think of it, his voice had wavered when he spoke about Tui. There was something there. Something Ben didn't want to talk about. Chin pushed it out of his mind; he trusted his friend. Ben was a good detective; he wouldn't hold back anything that would help them solve this case.

"But that's not all," Ben continued. "I managed to speak with Gabriel's mentor and teacher. Apparently, he was looking into selling his work. All of it."

Chin frowned. "Raising money for his family or a plan to get out of the business?"

"His mentor didn't know. But he did say that Gabriel was really torn over the decision. He didn't want to do it."

Danny sighed. "We're stuck. His family had motive, his rival had motive. We have the evidence to argue either circumstantially, but we can't just pick which story we like better and run with it."

"Right, Chin agreed, "And we all know what Steve's going to say when he walks through that door."

Ben nodded. "Find me the witness."

They had no case without her.

As if their conversation had summoned him, the detectives heard Steve greeting Jenny as he returned from a meeting with the Governor. Joining his men at their impromptu meeting, he asked. "What've you got?"

Chin and Ben looked to Danny who shrugged and gave the boss a summary of all they had discussed.

Steve looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, "Gentlemen, it appears we have one solution to this mess: find me the witness."

Chin purposely didn't look at Danny or Ben until the door to Steve's office was firmly shut. Once safe, the three friends broke out into simultaneous laughter. They knew each other and their boss too well.

* * *

Danny breathed in the outside air as he stood in line for his dinner; he had spent a long day stuck in the office pouring over information and the work day, for Five-O, wasn't over yet. Around him locals and tourists mingled on the palace lawn. After purchasing a hot dog, he found Steve sitting under a tree with a sandwich in hand. The older man raised an eyebrow as he looked at his friend's dinner. "You're really going to eat that?"

Danny shrugged as he sat down. "It's food and I'm hungry." Unwrapping his dog, he grinned as he heard the sound of children playing behind him. Suddenly, a high pitched screech filled the air. Danny winced. The little girl did not sound happy at all even as he heard her parents trying to shush her. Trying to make the best of what was quickly turning into an awkward situation, he joked, "And I thought little girls were made of sugar and spice and everything nice."

Steve's brow furrowed. "That kid's a boy."

Instead of following Steve's gaze, Danny looked at his boss. His face was thoughtful. Danny knew that look. Steve had just figured out something important, something big. "We've been making assumptions, Danno."

Danny immediately took a big bite of his dog. He suspected that his time to sit down and enjoy his meal was rapidly coming to an end.

Steve rose and began to pace, his sandwich forgotten on the ground. "The scream our mystery witness made was high pitched. We've been searching for a woman who doesn't exist."

"So our witness is a man?"

"Yes, and I think I know who." Then without another word, Steve turned and walked briskly back toward the palace.

Danny took one last look at his rest of his hot dog, shoved the rest in his mouth, jumped to his feet and began chewing on the run. Dinnertime was definitely over.

* * *

Mark Iona was shaking as he was escorted into the Five-O offices. Just when he thought this whole horrible business could be put behind him, the older Hawaiian sergeant had shown up with an interpreter and had insisted that he go with them. It had been made clear that refusing wasn't an option. The question now was what did they know and what did they think he knew?

The door opened and Mark straightened as he stepped inside. He had to remain calm. But it was hard. Standing in front of his desk made McGarrett appear taller and more imposing than when he had seen him walking around the gardens. The interpreter moved so that she stood to the detective's right as McGarrett gestured toward the chair. "Take a seat. Now, I understand you told my detective that you saw nothing the morning Mr. Larson was murdered."

 _"Yes."_

"Mr. Iona, I understand you cannot hear, but I was wondering, can you speak?"

Not sure what McGarrett was getting at he replied truthfully, _"I can voice, but I'm told it doesn't sound like hearing people do."_

"Could you voice for me now?"

Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat. _"I'd rather not. It's embarrassing."_ He learned a long time ago not to voice around people he didn't know. They usually laughed or looked at him strangley. He didn't need more reminders that he wasn't like everyone else.

Steve smiled gently. "You don't have to, but if could let me hear what your voice sounds like, it would be a big help."

Realizing what McGarrett was searching for, he said, _"You want to know if I was the person who screamed."_

McGarrett met his gaze and his facial expression switched from friendly to serious. "Yes, I do."

Mark didn't reply. He told himself he wouldn't get involved; surely, the cops didn't need his testimony to figure it out. The idea of telling his story in courtroom terrified him.

McGarrett didn't give him long to think as he pressed on, "Mark, the investigation is at a dead end. We have suspects but we can't prove who murdered Gabriel without evidence. We know you were there. You left a bush only partially pruned before you ran. If you don't tell me what you saw, Gabriel's murderer will walk free."

Mark shuddered at that thought. For he remembered Gabriel. He remembered his smile and he always waved whenever their paths had crossed. The artist deserved better than this.

"You screamed, voiced as you say, when you saw the murder. A natural reaction, one you couldn't control. We assumed we were looking for a woman. But your voice has always been high-pitched, hasn't it?"

Gathering his courage Mark answered, _"Yes, it's because I lost my hearing when I was young - the mumps - so my voice still sounds like it did when I was two."_

"What happened before you screamed?"

 _"I saw her kill him. "_

And as Mark told the detective everything, all the details of that horrible morning, the heavy weight of guilt and fear he had been carrying around suddenly didn't feel like so great a burden. It appeared that helping the victim to rest in peace was the best way to find peace for himself.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed and followed this story on this rather long ride. Thanks for sticking with me; I appreciate you all! And a huge thank you to honu59 for being a supportive beta and friend.

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Finishing Touches**

This case was going to end in the same way it began: in a beautiful environment made ugly by the presence of evil in his midst. For SteveMcGarrett found Mrs. Larson lounging across an elegant looking French style sofa with a cigarette in her hand. She didn't even look at him as she said dismissively, "My husband is at work. You will need to travel there if you wish to speak to him."

Scanning the opulent room, he said, "You have many beautiful things in your home, Mrs. Larson."

"Something tells me you aren't here to critique my decor, Mr. McGarrett."

Steve wandered over towards the grand piano. "Oh, but I've always been fond of beautiful things: beautiful art, beautiful music..." The piano was not his instrument, but he knew enough to tickle a few keys, testing different ones.

Larson stiffened in her seat. "Beautiful women, according the papers." She was staring at the piano in a way that betrayed her nervousness.

Steve shrugged off the insult. He knew that he was close to getting what he wanted. "Your son was murdered with a garrote made out of piano wire." He continued hitting different notes as he worked his way up and down the scale.

"So you think it is appropriate to torture his grieving mother by playing the instrument that caused his death. Have you no shame?" Tears began to well up in her eyes.

"No," Steve replied as he hit a key that emitted no sound. To make sure his suspect saw him, he hit it two more times to the same effect. "I'm here to arrest his killer. I think we both know that the wire that should be struck by this key is the one a witness saw you use to murder your son."

The tears disappeared as quickly as they appeared. She knew the jig was up. "You seem to know everything, Mr. McGarrett."

"Not everything, Mrs. Larson. I know enough to ensure that you will spend a very long time in prison. But what I don't understand is why? Why kill your own son? Money doesn't seem like a enough of a motive for a woman of your means."

The woman took another drag from her cigarette before replying, "I gave him everything. His life, his education, his art. We paid for his training, his studio, his paints. And the first time I ask him to do something for _me_ , he refused _me_. He called _me_ selfish. What child puts his hobby before the needs of his entire family?"

Looking at the grand piano, the chandelier, the art on the walls, the high end furniture, Steve just shook his head. "The items in this room alone are worth more than your son's paintings ever will be? If you cared as much about the family business as you say, why didn't you just sell all this?"

"And announce to the entire island that we are struggling? You're right, Mr. McGarrett, you don't know everything after all."

Steve could only stare dumbfounded as this woman put out her cigarette and then cocked her head as to say 'arrest me.' In that moment, he realized that she really didn't care. She'd done her job. She punished her disobedient son and provided her family with the funds they needed to save their business. He would have his men look, but he doubted that he would be able to prove that the husband or the elder son had foreknowledge of the murder of her youngest - even if they did.

So as Steve escorted Mrs. Larson to the waiting officers, he couldn't help but be disturbed by her words. Even though it was his job to analyze and study evil, perhaps it was a good thing he didn't understand it all.

* * *

The visitors' center at the Botanical Gardens was filled with dozens of paintings. Almost a hundred people were milling about, drinking, looking at art and waiting for the auction to begin. But Ben only had eyes for one object in the room: a painting of a fisherman hauling in his catch.

He had seen this painting before when he had explored Gabriel's studio. But with the weight of the investigation now gone, he was able to look at and really appreciate the art before him. For the more he studied the work, the more he couldn't help but see himself in the art. This was a picture of the man he could have been if he had taken a different path in life. It was the life of his father and most of the men in his family. It was the life his family had expected him to lead until he began to excel in school. After that, all everyone talked about was how he would get to lead a better life then they ever had.

The day he received his college scholarship had been the best day of his life. He'd left and he'd rarely gone back except to visit his family. He been so happy to escape that life that he had thrown himself into his studies and into his work with a passion. But the more he looked at this painting, the more he remembered that, while living on the docks was a hard life, it wasn't a bad one. Men like his father had pride in their work and would have done anything to make sure that there was food on the table and their families were cared for. There was love and care and closeness. He wouldn't be the same man he was today without those days. He just needed to remember.

"Powerful, isn't it?"

Ben forced himself to breath normally; he had expected Beth, no Lanuola, to be here and he thought he was prepared. But the friendly tone of her voice had caught him off guard. Could they, just once, simply talk?

"It looks so real," Ben said.

Lanuola smiled. "Gabriel did have a gift for capturing the essence of people in his works."

Ben cocked his head in surprise. "I thought you didn't approve of Mr. Larson."

"Turns out Gabriel was a better man than I thought."

Ben understood how difficult those words were for his ex. No matter how bad things had gotten, she'd always clung to pride. "He did surprise us all." _And you are surprising me._

"I would've liked to have seen the looks on his family's faces when the will was read."

Now Ben was smiling. There had been no small amount of rejoicing in the Five-O offices when they learned that the artist had left everything to a nonprofit on the island dedicated to supporting local artists. They had decided to hold an auction to raise money for a scholarship in Gabriel's name so talented artists of all backgrounds would have a chance to share their talents with the world.

"People are more complex than they appear."

"They always are."

Somehow they moved from talking about Gabriel to talking about them. And they weren't yelling. Ben didn't want to ruin this moment, but he had to say, "You changed, Lanuola, and more than just your name."

"So did you."

"I don't regret the decisions I made. But I do regret that my decisions caused us to grow apart. I miss our friendship."

Lanuola met his eyes and admitted, "I've missed you, too. I'm glad we never married, but if you're willing, I think we should try to be friends."

Ben nodded. "I'd like that."

It wouldn't be easy, Ben knew that. Even now that they had gotten through the hardest part, the awkwardness returned. It would take time for it to go away.

Lanuola gestured toward the crowd. "I need to get back to work."

"Me too." Five-O was working security for the auction. Mr. Larson challenged his son's will and there was some fear that he might try something at the event. "Aloha."

"Aloha."

Taking one last look at the painting, Ben realized that he'd spent so much time focusing on his future that he'd forgotten to honor his past. It may have been hard and it may have been painful, but it had made him into the man he was today.

They say that art is window into a man's soul and Ben knew that this case had helped him take a long look into his own. For that, he would always be grateful.

PAU


End file.
